The Art Of Being Human
by KnightOfHeartProtectorOfSoul
Summary: Your name is JOHN EGBERT. Your are one of the FAE. if anyone found out about this, it turns out you would DIE A SLOW AND PAINFUL DEATH. you ARENT SURE what to do now. But your new friend, DAVE STRIDER seems to know what's up. (Dave/John Dystopian/supernatural AU. the first chapter is the only really short one, don't worry)
1. Introductions Are Always Necessary

Everyone knew that the glossy posters and expensive advertisements to get the turned to register were traps.

At least, Dave hoped everyone knew this. Though his logical thought process told him otherwise, otherwise no one would do it, would they?

On April 13th 2009, the world changed. People woke up… _different._

Only some people. Some people woke up as mermaids or wizards or half animal people or simply super-powered humans. And it didn't take long for governments to organise a system to deal with it. Two types each ranked from class A to class E, and every "turned" person was required to register.

Though nobody knew the exact percentage of humanity that had been turned, Scientists suspected it to be around 41.3% of the population of Earth. It was up to the turned person to step forward, unless it was painfully obvious, no-one would know.

And so they did. Millions of people signed the forms, wore the bracelets and signed their lives away.

Because people do terrible things in the name of science.

If you received a letter, to tell you that the government had "selected" you for special training or unique job opportunities or any of the lies they made, your fate was sealed.

You could receive this letter at any time after being registered. And there was no way out.

The only people who were free at all, were those who didn't register. But this was a crime. A taboo. A felony in a class of its own. But Dave and Dirk Strider did not give one individual shit.

Dave was a Vampire. A Type 2 Class C turned (though some individuals can rank higher than their general species assignment, it's best to lay low). His classification roughly translated to "he wasn't human anymore and was of middle-class power levels."

Dirk Strider, was a Type 2 Class B turned. A no longer human entity of mid-to-high levels of power. An Incubus.

The two brothers were part of a small cult known as " _the signless"_ as they bore no bracelet to say they were more than ordinary, and if they did, it would've been one Sollux de-activated. They bore no sign for their cult, or their government. And it spread like wildfire thanks to the big mouth of Karkat Vantas.

His father managed to communicate to his sons what the government's true intentions were, and through this knowledge, Karkat set up the cult in his name. His, and his twin brother Kankri's.

While Karkat himself wasn't "turned" his father and brother were. His father could make you believe or do anything he said, his words were gospel. Nothing could dissuade those who listened. Kankri, however, was _fast._ He could speak at 200 words per minute, and was getting faster, and could run 100 meters in 2.2 seconds. He could read a book and tell it back to you in ten minutes, 5 minutes if he didn't have to tell it back to you word for word. Not that anyone would understand him when he spoke that fast. But as far as the brothers knew, their father was long dead.


	2. Your Name Is John Egbert

Your name is John Egbert. And you, are one of the fae.

Now this is some high-class stuff! So you thought it would be wise to register so you could walk around with your wings on show, and it would be fine. Ish. But when your ex-girlfriend Vriska was asked to go do some "work" with some high-up government people and never came back, called or anything…it kind of put you off the whole thing. And it's not like you have anyone to talk to about it, as far as you know, none of your friends are turned either. Except for Vriska, obviously.

So it's weighing heavy on your mind. It seems dumb, she's probably living the high life somewhere, too busy to care about little old you, or anyone from back home.

It seems like something she would maybe do. Possibly. It would have to be pretty big and/or top secret, though.

But still, you've seen enough movies to know that the sucker who believes everything's fine when he sees something suspicious ends up dead or pretty fucked.

Unfortunately not literally fucked, which wouldn't be so bad.

So you've been putting it off for a while. Even though not registering while aware of your power is completely illegal you can't seem to bring yourself to do it, but you know you really should. The guilt is eating you alive.

And so it is that you decide you will. As soon as you work up the nerve. Telling people what you are and allowing the government to uproot your life in such a way so fast seems to be something so daunting and terrifying. But it is the law. And you know your father wouldn't be proud of you if he knew what was going on.

He doesn't, however. He is blissfully unaware of your power or dilemma. And you have thought of talking to him, only to decide against it in case he registered in your name, or reacted negatively in any way. There have been stories of children being kicked out by parents for being turned, but it's more of the fact that you're living illegally in the sense that being unregistered is illegal.

So you walk out the door with equal part dread and determination.

Half way there, you feel like you're going to change your mind. You start running.

You feel yourself ram into them before you register you ran into someone. The confusion clears in that moment, and you look at them.

It was that cliché moment. Two people destined to meet literally _bumping into each other_ in the street. The skittering sound of sunglasses sliding across concrete and the shocking red eyes widening in shock were the first things John noticed. His own blue eyes went wide at the realisation. Looking, flailing, desperately, he saw no bracelet, so he must be human, but those eyes were so red, and his skin was so pale…

He scrambled to get his glasses back on his face. You almost want to say "No, you look better without," but don't. He looks to you and sniffs casually, as if trying to avoid blowing his nose or tending to an itch. An eyebrow raises in surprise, you see him look to your wrist. (It can't be that obvious, can it?)

You aren't sure what you can do to help, so you end up making half gestures to help and giving up half way through out of sheer awkwardness. His eyebrows are still raised to you. He looks around briefly. You follow his gaze, and watch as it lingers on a CCTV camera, it isn't facing you two at the moment, but you see it begin its rotation towards you. He is suddenly grabbing you by the joint of your elbow and dragging you away, wait, why?

"JEEZE. You would think that, when you're already late for our amazing day out-which I had to go through the effort to plan, by the way- you would walk _calmly_ over and say "Gee, I'm sorry I'm so late." But nope, you decide to body slam me into next week. Fuck you too, bro," You're really confused. You try to pull away but find you barely move. His grip is strong. Too strong to be human, your entire body cannot pull away. He makes a big show about these "plans" you two have, and you have to admit he's a good actor. If you didn't know any better you would think the pair of you were best friends, or lovers, having a rough day.

"Um-" you begin but he shakes his head and rounds another corner. "Nope. Not hearing this shit. We are having the best fucking day out ever and you don't get to spew your word vomit anywhere _near_ it," again, he's speaking louder than necessary and making a borderline over-the-top show of the pair of you. People stare, but you suppose that's the point. You assume he's turned, because you can't even feel your arm, he's gripping it so tight. Your back aches, but its ache is part of your daily routine by this point.

He stops in front of an alley. You start to panic a little (more than you already were). "Ah, a short cut," he says, and he's dragging you down it. About half way along, where the wall of the alley juts out, and you are positive no one could see you, and would struggle to hear you he has you against a wall, and the terror sets in, but your voice isn't working, he has a finger on your lips and your back protests as it's against the wall. His voice is suddenly quiet, so quiet you can barely hear it.

" _Shhh, don't worry. I'm not going to do anything. I just didn't want_ _ **Them**_ _to hear us."_

Them? It sounds deadly serious, but you're still confused. He moves his finger.

"What? Who? I?" he gives you a glare to tell you quite clearly you're speaking too loud, so you cringe and mouth the word "Sorry," before trying to speak again. _"Why did you drag me here? Who's They?"_ you say, and you see him look around before speaking, softly and right into your ear.

" _You're turned, right? I didn't want to be caught on camera. Don't you know the drill by now?"_ He says, and your heart is hammering. How did he know? Did all turned people have this sense? But you weren't sure- maybe it's just you? He angles himself so his ear is near your mouth, and with the closeness of it all a passer-by would call you rambunctious lovers. It sends blood rushing to your cheeks, and he gulps when he notices, which is very soon.

" _How did you know that? Why can't we be caught on camera? What drill?"_ he seems to frown for a moment. Apparently he thought you knew something you don't. He moves back to look around once more, he even checks the ceiling off the alley, it's an old jitty, it must be centuries old. It's in the shape of an arch and has graffiti and carved initials almost everywhere you look. There aren't many of these left in the city.

" _So you don't know anything, do you?"_ he says and you shake your head to say you don't know anything. He backs up again, and you see him look conflicted, even begin to make a move to leave, but you find yourself going to try to grab him to come back before he even releases the hands that are by your sides. A look of guilt crosses his face when he moves his head to look at you, and he sighs quietly, returning to his blush-inducing previous position.

" _I would tell you to forget about this and leave you alone, but I can't just leave you if you don't even know what's going on. I couldn't live with myself. What were you going to do today?"_ his statement confuses you more, was something happening you didn't know about? Well that seems painfully obvious, now. You try to shift to ease the tension in your back, and try to look over to see his face now he's turned with his ear facing you, allowing you to speak as quietly as possible.

"… _I was going to sign up,"_ you tell him, and he stiffens suddenly, you think his vivid red eyes may be widening, and he suddenly grips your hips almost painfully- as if he's afraid you'll leave. His mouth tightens into a grim line. _"Well then we are very lucky for this little misunderstanding-encounter- whatever the fuck this is. You don't sign up. Do you hear me? Don't sign up for the love of god-Don't."_ His breath tickles your ear and your chest tightens in fear. Why not? What was wrong with signing up? Isn't signing up better than living illegally? He pulls away, properly this time, and you can see that he can see your fear worry and confusion. He reaches in his pocket, and you almost flinch when he pulls something out.

It's a take-out menu, folded and old. There's a pen clipped to it, and a couple of things circled, but judging by the coffee-mug ring stains, they might not be recent. He unclips the pen and writes something down. He hands it to you but keeps the pen. He whispers to you again, though nowhere near as softy-but just as seriously. _"Call me, we can arrange to meet up and I'll explain everything. You have ab-so-fucking-lutely no right to trust me, but lives are on the line, here. Please, at least consider it."_

He lets you go, then, and walks through the opposite way you came into the alley, and you stand there, dumbstruck, for the longest time. Then, when you feel you have the brain power to move, you put the menu in your pocket and go the same way he did.

Then you stop near a street corner. You could loop around and go to the sign-up office, or you could go home and pretend signing up was never you intention. You look around to see no CCTV watching, and as you pass a bin, you take out the old take-out menu. It's for a pizza place. You go there every now and again. You go to through it in the bin, but something stops you. The phone number and chum handle, neatly written on a space on the menu stop you, to be exact. If the permanent ache in your back wasn't because of wings, you would think this stranger was mad. That you had a close encounter and got out of it lightly. You could ignore his words of warning and get on with life as you had quite easily if that were the case. But this ache is from wings, and you are one of the fae. You think of Vriska. Her face when she dumped you in favour of fancy government work, and the promise that she would keep in touch, now long since broken.

You put the menu back in your pocket, and walk briskly back to your home. This whole decision took a few seconds, but you find yourself looking for and being wary of every CCTV camera you see. You hadn't really noticed it before, but there are a lot. There are few places there _wasn't_ some sort of surveillance. Only in small areas like the jitty the stranger took you too, and privately owned areas where the government had no legal right to put CCTV there- but even then, there probably would be some form of surveillance. Whether it's a government struck deal or an expensive safety precaution.

When you get home, your dad greets you. He asks where you've been, and you say you wanted some air and went for a walk. He says okay. There are a few college pamphlets on the table. Your father is very keen on the idea of you going to college now you've graduated, but you know for a fact that turned people very rarely if ever get into higher and further education courses (in some places they are banned all together). It isn't fair, but it is how it is, you guess. Obviously, your dad still thinks you're human, so it doesn't seem like it should be an issue, but you know it is. Hiding that in a college-or even a university- setting sounds incredibly difficult. And think of the trouble you would be in, if discovered. You think of the stranger in the alley again.

You excuse yourself to your room. It still has signs or your childhood, despite your attempts to make it the room of a blossoming adult. There are some things that may never leave, though. Your movie posters, your glow in the dark stars, your magic kit even managed to make the cut into adulthood, because, hey, who could deny the simple pleasures in life? Music…good food…and magic tricks. Yes. That is definitely the three top simple pleasures in life. You are sure of it.

You still have your grand piano in your dad's study, you even have permission to take it when you move out. If you manage to get the money together. (Jobs are another thing turned people have difficulty getting. You've seen it. The government has been using it as a reason to say, sign up, we'll ensure you have work if you come to us. Another reason you found yourself swayed into signing up earlier.) You've placed the take out menu on your desk. The decision of whether or not to go through with what he told you to do was a difficult one.

It takes many minutes of lip-biting and shifting around and staring at the take-out menu as if it held the answers for you to finally make your choice.

You reach for the menu, and unlock your phone, selecting the _"Add Contact"_ button.


	3. It Should Be Impossible

Your name is Dave Strider and you just gave your number to some cute turned guy you may or may not have dragged against his will into an alley. It sounds bad when you say that- but you thought he might have been part of the _Signless_ and you wanted to ask about the next meeting, since Dirk isn't due home for another few hours. You could smell that he wasn't human, but apparently he didn't know anything. And so your inner softie could not allow him to go on without knowing the truth. How could you live with yourself if you knew he was ignorant and you just let him go on living like that, when death was only a letter away? When you found out he was literally going to sign up when you bumped into him, you entertained the idea that maybe fate is a thing. You thanked whatever deity may exist. It put the cherry on the cake, to be honest. You were just in time.

Though you tried, there is no guarantee he didn't just dump your number in the nearest bin and went on with life. However short or long it may turn out to be. You looked into his borderline-inhumanly blue eyes, and goddammit, you couldn't leave him out the loop. He's too cute to sign up.

The fact you were pressed up against him was an added bonus, you decide.

Your Bro, Dirk, is out. You assume it has something to do with his partner-change. Your little "Community" has a support system for people like you and Dirk. People who require something such as, oh, maybe, blood, or perhaps, sex-energy, to survive. Volunteers partner up and allow you to get what you need without hassle and without hunting. Part of what the Vantas's believed their father would've wanted was for "our people to show peace towards the humans, so that they show peace to us," but you assume that it'll take a bit more than this courtesy to win over humanity.

Anyway, your brother was recently informed of his partner change. Apparently they only had one male volunteer, and it was all a big experiment to see if the pair of them were compatible species wise, and you suppose socially, too, because Dirk's method of feeding is a lot more personal than yours. Previously, Dirk fed off of a Ghost-girl named Roxy.(However Kankri was very insistent on having partners that are of the gender(s) you're attracted to, if at all possible, and girls just aren't Dirk's thing.) The Danny Phantom jokes you made with Roxy were countless, she was a funny gal, and their powers were strikingly similar. Hers and a certain Fenton character, that is. You don't think you really have any powers.

Apparently, Vampires are perfectly capable of various dark forms of magic, even healing, apparently. A fellow vampire, Kanaya, has this ability. You assume higher up classes of vampire have these extra abilities? But you can't really find it in you to care. You might even have such an ability, but it certainly hasn't showed itself. Whatever. It isn't a big deal?

Ugh.

You yourself have a partner, one Karkat Vantas. You feed on him once or twice a week, and he's one of your best friends, you suppose you got lucky there. It could be worse, it could've been Kankri you were partnered with! Imagine the effects his blood would have on you. (It was quickly discovered that feeding off of non-humans influences a vampire, in one way or another. As Rose is a witch and Kanaya's partner, it is speculated that her healing abilities come from feeding from Rose for an extended period of time.) So feeding off of someone who was faster than even a Strider, you don't think you would've been able to control yourself from running everywhere you went.

The thoughts and speculations of a vampire's ability to take a piece of those they feed off of regularly keep you entertained, and stave off the anxiety of the blue-eyed turned guy in the alley.

* * *

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you think Kankri has gone insane.

"Now, I know it may seem unorthodox, but really, this could open so many doors for relations between species-" you shake your head. "I appreciate you finding me a male partner, but this could be dangerous, Kankri." You remind him, because no one really knows the extent to which dark and light don't mix. He's partnered you up with an angel, for god's sake.

"But it might not be, and if it is deemed dangerous we will return you to your original partner immediately, problem solved." He tries to reason with you, but you are having none of it.

"It could be fatal for me, Kankri." You remind him, and he chews his lip as he considers the possibility. "At least meet him first, Dirk. See how you can get along, maybe try kisses, start small. I really would prefer that-" you cut him off abruptly. "If this is about my disinterest in women, it's fine, really. I'll manage," he shakes his head. "It isn't just that, we need to know how well such opposites can interact. The boundaries of different species is unknown and we obviously cannot turn to mainstream science for our answers. We also cannot _allow_ mainstreams science to find the answers. Imagine what they could do! It's better the angel is with us, than them. There are already rumours going around that they have found the answers behind so many of humanities long unanswered questions within our kind- and I do not doubt they did horrible things to achieve this,"

Now this, interests you.

"They have?" you prompt him slightly, to keep him talking. Which isn't hard, the man could talk for days without break. "Yes, no! It's a rumour. We can only hope they haven't, and a way I'm doing this is prioritising the recruitment of non-human members. I know this is unfair and I hate to do such a thing as I want equality for all of us, but if the non-turned find what their looking for, then who knows what they could do to our world. To us." Kankri is a devoted rights activist, so you know he means what he says about wanting equality. It's one of _the Signless's_ main goals. You sigh.

"Fine. When do we start." You ask, and Kankri brightens up considerably- almost instantly, you're sure if you weren't who you are then you wouldn't have been able to catch the shift in expression. Thankfully you are who you are. So you did. "Right now! He's waiting in my office," Kankri begins to lead you through your cults little headquarters to his office in the back. Kankri is technically a bar owner. He only opens from late afternoon till night, so most days he's opened his bar and his basement (converted into a lush lounge area. There is an emergency exit and a code word for "run for your lives", thankfully) to members. Kankri has also bought the apartment above the bar to live and work in, this is the headquarters for _the Signless,_ really, but right now you're standing in an empty bar, walking towards an office, where you sense an uncomfortable prickle, a shift in energy and see a silhouette behind the glass window on the door. It's him.

* * *

You are Dave Strider, and your phone just went off. You pick it up with ease, and see an unknown number flash back at you, expectantly waiting for you to open and answer the text you just received. You do, and feel the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach, you crush the part of you that hopes it's the guy from earlier, because you refuse to hold high hopes. You absolutely refuse. You are 99.9% sure he threw your number away, anyway. You'll have to find it before anyone else does.

It _is_ him.

Holy fuck.

" _hi uh, it's me, that guy from today. Did you still want me to call you?"_

Hell yes you do. You take a deep (and completely pointless) breath. You no longer need oxygen, but human comforts help in times like this. You are making this happen.

" _yeah sure."_

Nice. Smooth. Yes. This is good.

Your beloved ring tone sounds (almost too loud in the silent apartment) mere moments later. (You say it's ironic but it isn't really that ironic, yet it being used ironically in a non-ironic way somehow feels more ironic. It's the Kingdom Hearts II opening song and you almost started crying when your brother called you once, but you would never admit this. Never.) "Hello?" you answer, making sure you're casual.

"Hi. So you said we could meet up?" he sounds timid and nervous, and you feel slightly better about the butterflies you have fluttering around inside you right now. Because you were so sure he wasn't going to call. You were so sure. 99.9% sure, in fact. You're also glad he's being vague, who knows who could be listening to the call, right?

"We sure can. How about at the park near where I bumped into you. I can walk you back to my place, we have Chinese food." He takes a minute to think about this and you felt weird for inviting him to your home (you'll have to talk to Dirk, he might bring his new partner home.) but it's safest, he seems to catch on to that train of thought a few seconds later, and agrees, saying he'll see you in half an hour. He hangs up and you sigh (another human trait that is the equivalent to comfort food for you now) and press the one on your phone, Dirk is on speed dial.

"Sup Dave, I'm kinda busy." His voice sounds strained, and you worry already than you called him mid blowjob or something. Gross. And rude, too! Strider charm, Dirk, no "be a rude asshole _during sex."_

"Is this a bad time? Because if so make it not a bad time, this is important." You feel bad but it is true, regardless of how rude it is. "What's up lil' man?" he says after some shuffling sounds and a mumbled "sorry," from someone you don't recognise (you assume his new partner.) "Stay out the apartment for like, at least an hour. I'm bringing someone over and I don't want you stumbling in undoing your jeans and mackin' on some dude when I have them here." You can sense his eyebrow raise. "Alright. Call me when their gone." He says, and hangs up. You must have caught him at a really bad time.

* * *

You are Dirk Strider and your brother just called you at a bad time. He's probably going to grill you later expecting you to apologise for answering the phone mid-blowjob or something. It wasn't that. Everyone is fully clothed. It's just. Jesus Christ. His _aura._ So bright and shining and simultaneously sickening and blissful. You think he'll taste like cream and lemons. He's smiling and talking to you, asking if you're holding up okay, and going over the basic rules of your partnership. You learned a lot about him. Including that he's one of the most attractive people you've ever seen and part of you wonders if everyone thinks that, or if it's part of his powers, or if it's just you. (You also learned stuff like his name is Jake and he's from an island in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere on the Pacific Ocean.)

He tells you he is very nervous, but heard Kankri talking of your plight and signed up immediately for this "Rip Snorting Adventure" in order to help you out. You appreciate it, you tell him, and he nods to you with a smile.

"You seem like a really good guy, it's a wonder you didn't feel bad and sign up. What stopped you- I mean, I'm glad you didn't sign up, but still," you ask, if they guy is literally an angel, surely he must feel guilt over breaking the law. "I was out on the surrounding islands on the Pacific until recently, actually. Heh…" you raise an eyebrow. "Me and my younger sister, Jade. It was quite the trip from our original island, but we made it fine enough. It was all rather exciting, actually!" his energy spikes in excitement, and you have to take a breather, he frowns in concern.

"Is everything alright chap?" you nod. "Your energy just spiked is all, you're bright as the goddamn sun, English," he seems to blush, but then you see his energy recede, and return to more normal levels. "That better?" he asks, you merely nod in return. The pair of you seem to have hit it off well. You thought you were gonna hate him. Huh.

* * *

 _this is just me fixing the POV changes, dont even worry about it. So, what are we thinking here?_


	4. That Chapter That's Twice As Long

You are now John Egbert. And you are standing in an empty park. Dave is five minutes late, and part of you worries he won't turn up at all, while the rest of you worries there is something worse in store. But sure enough, exactly eight minutes after he is supposed to be here, he strolls up to you, all leisurely and relaxed, and you have half the mind too yell at him for making you stand around like an idiot for almost ten minutes. You spent those eight minutes looking at cameras and thinking over the sudden insecurity they brought you. The paranoia and tumbling sensation of fear. Your fear is like being as sharp as a tack, mentally alert, but freefalling from 10,000 feet, helpless, it is uncertainty and insecurity, and you don't like it. As if he can see how irritated you are (it's probably very prominent on your features), and as if he can sense your unease (you don't know how noticeable that is) he apologises for being late, and begins to escort you in the direction of you can only assume (and hope) is his home. (You've worried about this for half an hour. What if he isn't as benevolent as he seems? You can't find it within yourself to distrust him, though.)

You don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. He leads you in silence. His shades glint reflections of the sun and it seems to be approaching four in the afternoon. He seems to get restless after a while, but he hides it well. If you weren't staring at him for most of this walk, you would think he was fine. Oh. You've been staring at him for this _entire_ walk so far. He's probably noticed, too. You realise you don't even know his name. The silence persists, and you attempt to look elsewhere, but end up stumbling over the pavement and your own two feet or looking back at him anyway. The silence is comfortable, and you get the feeling he wants you to keep your mouth shut until you reach your destination.

When you _do_ reach your destination, you feel slightly underwhelmed. It's a block of apartments. Not many. Three or four, you imagine. And when you approach the door, you look upon the door buzzer in confusion. The apartments are labelled "6a, 6b, 7a" and each has a name scrawled next to it. He doesn't bother pushing any of the buttons. The door has been propped open with a red brick (similar to the ones that construct the building itself) and he simply opens the door for you to walk inside. He makes a point of propping the brick into its proper place, holding the door open, as if to let you know there is an exit if you want to use it. With your nerves the way they are you consider using it then and there. You persist, however, and walk up the four flights of stairs (or maybe it was five flights of stairs, you aren't sure) to the highest apartment. 7a. you try to recall the name written beside it, but no matter any attempt you had made to memorise it, you couldn't recall it now.

He opens the door for you, his keys turning and making a loud _'clunk!'_ with the lock, you can only assume the building itself, as well as its interior is old and possibly in need of repair or redecoration. When you think about it, the building itself _is_ rather old. Perhaps from the seventies. It looked quite out of place in the city, but it was tucked away so no passer-by would look twice at the displacement. You hear the clunk again, he's locked the door.

The apartment itself is rather simple. There is quite a lot of wood panelling, on the floors and walls, and you notice a few scratches and chips in the wood. All windows have curtains, dark, heavy curtains, in front of them. Making the place rather dim and dark, even so early in the day. The place looks unusual to you. You swear you see flashes of bright colour stuffed away in closets and under the futon you find in the living room. He gestures for you to sit. You do. He seems to take a moment to do a final check within his mind and nods to himself.

"So, my names Dave Strider. I'm turned, so are you, and you are in one of the safest and most private places in the city." He says, gesturing to the rundown apartment. "The only thing to worry about is if the people below knock on their ceiling while you're in the middle of fucking, or if you have your TV too loud, or in my case music, heh," he shuffles for a second, trying to find more words to say, but you think you're supposed to reply to him now anyway.

"I'm John Egbert. How is this such a safe place?" he shrugs at you, suddenly nonchalant now he has you talking to him. "My Bro and his old partner in crime are technical geniuses, rigged the place. She also put a bunch of charms on the place. So did my Bro. Didn't know incubi could do magic but the more you know, right?" your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You're an incubus?" you ask, your mind forming horrible conclusions as to why he brought you here. He seems to catch on. "Jesus fucking Christ, no. even if I was I wouldn't need to be all "mysterious stranger can he be trusted," You'd go home with me whatever I told you, if I made you horny enough. But that's not the point, because I'm not an incubus. I'm a vampire." You aren't sure if that's any better. "And no, I won't drink your blood- unless you let me," he tilts his shades to wink at you, and you feel your ears burn red, his eyes linger a moment longer than necessary.

"What are you, then? I haven't smelt your kind before." He realises what he said sounds really fucking weird a second later. "Fuck- I mean, my senses are really good, so I could smell you're turned, and what species you are but I haven't smelt your kind before so I don't know what it is? Does that make sense?" you nod. "I'm like, a fairy thing." You say, and for a second you consider the lack of mangrit that you imagine comes with being a fairy. One of the fae sounds better. "So you're one of the fae, huh?" see! Much better, even coming out the mouth of someone else.

You nod and he makes a face of approval. "Nice. Don't you have wings, though?" you are suddenly reminded of your aching back. "Yeah, they're under my shirt." He frowns. "Doesn't that hurt, like, a lot?" he asks and you shrug. It does, but you aren't about to start whining to a guy you just met. "Yeah, but it's not like I can't handle It." he's still frowning. "That must be really bad for them. Can I see them? For science." You scoff and his "for science" and start taking off your jacket, and tug the hem of your shirt. You aren't sure if you want to be shirtless in front of a stranger, but he's pushed his shades up onto the top of his head and you can't stop looking at his eyes.

"You don't have to, I'm just concerned that they'll get fucked up like that." He sounds really concerned for you. You smile and him and decide to take the plunge.

* * *

You are now Dave Strider, and your new friend, John Egbert, is shirtless in front of you. His wings flutter and he sighs in relief, you see his whole body relax, and you realize how tense he must have been. The wings entrance you, they're a beautiful sky blue, their slightly darker veins are more of a royal blue, and they remind you of dragonflies. You appreciate the bravery and trust he just put on the metaphorical table just now, and try not to allow your gaze to linger on him too long.

It doesn't go as great as you'd hoped. He turns around for you, thankfully. "Do they look okay?" he asks you, and you find yourself running a hand down the length of the wings on the area where they meet his back. He shivers. You hum, in thought. "I'm no expert, but they seem okay? Have you tried flying yet?" you ask, and poke the wings softly, only to see him jolt and them flutter. "No. How could I?" he replies, and you realise that he's right, and you crush the anger that wells up when you think of the society you live in, how he has to hurt himself just to be accepted. How you have to cheat and lie to live. It's fucking stupid. You want to help him. More than what you are about to tell him. You stomp off to your room without a word.

You have a few of these. They're baggy t-shirts you lounge around the house in. plain, cheap, and comfy. It's perfect. You grab the shittiest sword in your vicinity and return to John. He looks terrified when he sees the sword. "W-what is that?" his wings flutter, as if he stopped them from flying him away. "I, am going to slash a hole in this shirt," you lift the t-shirt as a gesture, "for your wings, so you can have your wings out without taking off your shirt, I don't think the world could handle you getting all shirt-less sexy on it for too long, anyway," wow that was stupid and you're an idiot. He softens when he realises what you're trying to do for him. "I need to know where about to slash." You say and he straightens his wings out. You hold it so you can match his shoulders to the shirts shoulders and see about where his wings are. You then turn away, lay the shirt down, and slash.

In hindsight, you are a vampire and have pointed nails (but you blunt them, so it's a moot point, you guess) and have sharp teeth on command, but it seemed like a reasonable idea at the time. The measuring method was stupid and far-fetched, but hopefully it was close enough. Thankfully your swordsmanship is pretty damn good, so you don't go through the shirt entirely, and you thank your speed and strength for allowing you to slash the shirt in the precise way you did regardless, physics be damned!

You have to help him into the shirt, but once you've shuffled his sensitive wings into the right holes and made sure they are free to move, you see the baggy (and slightly squint from all the wing-adjustments and your bad slash-judgement) shirt on him in its glory, and he smiles. He smiles and it does funny things to you. (It would do funny things to your heart, but that doesn't work anymore.)

"Thanks," he says, and you think the sun just exploded in his smile. He's so happy. He sits down on the futon again, and waits. You almost forget what he's waiting _for,_ why he's _here._ "Okay. Now that your all comfy and shit, down to business on letting you in on the biggest and most cliché secrets you will ever hear." His wings flutter, the movement draws your gaze to them and wow you're kinda jealous because those things are gorgeous. He shifts but says nothing, waiting to hear it, he seems caught up in the suspense as if it is a great movie moment.

"The reason I totally un-ironically begged you not to sign up is because," you stop and then flash-step to the windows, check they are all closed, the apartment door is locked, and you are completely secure. You see how nervous John has become. You are secure. Shits so safe. So safe it needs a warning, "WARNING: too safe for words" yep. That safe.

"Vampire 101, I can move hella fast," you tell him and continue "I was making sure there is absolutely no chance of being heard. Anyway. I told you not to sign up because if you do you would literally be signing your life away. And I couldn't let you do that." He seems to deflate. Disappointed? What?

"I appreciate the concern, but I know that the government could uproot me at any point for fancy top secret jobs or whatever. It happened to my Ex- girlfriend." Oh Jesus Christ. You smack your forehead with your palm. "No, John. Your old girlfriend is probably dead." This has him. He stops, still as your un-beating heart, you can only hear his breathing. Shock. Horror. Fear.

"That letter for "fancy top secret jobs or whatever" is your death warrant. A friend of mines dad was carted off. He managed to send letters away, it was still the early days so he could use his powers still, so he sent letters back to my friend and his brother all about the place." You say "early days" but you really mean about a year ago, back then they had to be very careful about the turned they selected, as they had little to no way of blocking their powers and abilities. And Karkat and Kankri's father was no exception, but as his powers could be implanted in the mind, if he said something like "tomorrow you will…" for example, meaning that the next day you would carry out the order as if it was the word of God himself. He had his guard sending letters to Karkat and Kankri, scrawled on whatever paper-like canvas he could find, in whatever ink-like substance he could muster, with any implement he could find. You were the one to confirm that some of his later letters (before they suddenly stopped) was written in his own blood. You had wondered why he didn't just demand his freedom. Something must have kept him there. But what?

John was pale, his wings had drooped low and you wondered if he was going to cry and what you would do if he did, after all you did just tell him his ex was dead, you can only assume they parted ways on at least decent terms. "So if you hadn't bumped into me today…" you can fill in the blanks of his sentence. You nod. You hear him exhale, the word "Jesus" flowing out with his breath, he runs a hand through his hair. "The safest thing to do is not to sign up at all." You add. He goes to say something, but you raise a hand to shut him up, indicating you're going to continue speaking. "If you get caught, they will force you to sign up, and you will probably be drafted directly into one of those "top secret jobs" within days. If you _don't_ get caught, you can live a relatively normal life. Maybe even go live in the mountains so you can fly whenever you like. You tell me what the better option is." He sighs in defeat, knowing that a life of paranoia and imminent death via government, or immediate death via government is an absolute NO.

"Exactly. You're welcome." You say, quirking your lips up towards him in an awkward-looking smile.

"But, you can't go it alone. So, as soon as my brother gets back, we're gonna have some real talk, and then at some point soon we're going to take you out. I don't know when, but probably soon." He frowns at you, and you should have probably given him more detail than that. "To meet more turned people. We have a cult thing going on. It's kinda a big deal. I'm sure Kankri will wet himself when he finds out there's a fae to join our ranks," you say, and he snorts when he laughs about Kankri wetting himself. "I'm not that special, Dave." He tells you, and the conversation fills you with a warmth. You think that's the first time he's used your name, and it's also the first time he's joked around with you, really.

"Kankri sort of runs the joint, you see. And I hear he's been focusing on non-human member recruitment. At least that's what his brother tells me. And I don't think we have a member of your kind yet. So he'll be pretty stoked." You should really shut your face hole. But you don't. "Also, you are totally that special, dude." You wonder if he struggled to come to terms with the fact he isn't human, or if he has come to terms with it at all. You know you struggled. You kept trying to eat. Kept trying to convince yourself this would blow over and you wouldn't crave blood, and instead return to your once beloved apple juice. You grew weak. Lost weight. Your brother expressed his concern for you and tried to help you in his own ways, but you refused to be in the room with him because every time you were you wanted to drink his blood. And it disgusted you. It made your skin crawl to the point you wanted _out._ But of course you didn't know how to die, and your brother wouldn't let you, and it got to the point where you couldn't move, anyway.

That was the first time since your parents died that you'd seen your brother cry.

He begged you to drink his blood, drink _any blood._ Just _live._ He begged you. He pleaded with you. And you had never seen a more broken man.

But that was almost a year ago. Time has moved on. Now you need to see to John.

"Alright. Well, tell me when and I'll be there, I guess. What should I do in the mean time?" you shrug. "Don't get caught. And if you think you have been caught, call me. I'm sure I can hide you in the closet or something until we sort it out," you both laugh then. A showcase of your embarrassing habit of laughing at your own jokes, even when you are the only one who finds them funny. It's gotten to the point you can't help it. You just _laugh._ Your brother says it's "Cute," when he feels slightly tenderer towards you, and he soon after goes on a tirade of his struggles of "being surrounded by cute people. What the fuck," and that "Even my own brother is cute as hell, life isn't fair," but this usually only happens when he's drunk.

"But what if I can't call you?" oh. You don't know, actually. The thought of him being dragged away, tears falling and mouth forming words that beg for forgiveness and ask for help, and your lovely protective instincts kick in, and you growl. You honestly, inhumanly, growl, right there in front of John, and he jumps, startled, you think a little afraid. "Then I'll kick ass and save you. Sniff you out like a blood hound if I have to. But you aren't going to get caught, Egbert." He nods, too fast to be relaxed. "Don't worry about the growling, it's a thing I do." He doesn't relax very much, so you offer a more in-depth explanation.

"Vampires are a protective species man. I guess even a hypothetical scenario kicks my instincts into high gear. Don't worry about it." you figure that this is a learning experience for him, and you to an extent, because from the looks of things you're the first turned person he's been around, so he knows nothing of your species specifically, as well as anyone else, hell, he probably doesn't know a lot about his own species. So you're lax with the info, and gentle with your words, offering more information when you think he needs it.

"Now I think about it, so are incubi. But that makes sense, since Striders are protective to begin with, you know, some assholes beat me up a few years ago, and my Bro nearly set their houses on fire with all the shit he was wrecking. I think he sent people to hospital," the words hadn't meant to come out, but they just kept flowing, there was no filter or stop sign between your mind and your mouth. Your thoughts did not pass go, nor did they collect $200, they went straight from being half formed thoughts to all out sentences. Oh, the embarrassment it causes. The Freudian slips it had caused. You shudder at the thought.

"Wow. Jeeze. Maybe that's why you guys are what you are now?" John offers, and you nod, it was something both you and Dirk had speculated many times. As well as many other things. Then suddenly there's an awkward silence, and no one knows what to say. You ponder if John is wondering if he can stay or not. But it turns out there was something else on his mind.

"Do you really think she's dead?" was all he said, and it took a couple minutes for you to put the pieces together and realise he meant the Ex-girlfriend who was called away. "If she isn't already then she will be. I'm sorry." You say, and you decide to consciously leave out the "She might as well be dead. With that I've heard goes on there." Because you know that isn't what he wants to hear right now. He needs to start mourning for her, now he knows it's very likely she's gone. "I know I just met you and everything but- no, it's dumb, never mind." He says, and he stands, you assume to change back into his constrictive t-shirt, but you stop him. A grip on his wrist as you stand to face him. You think you know what he was asking for. A hug. You think he was asking for a hug.

You deliver, and it isn't long before he starts crying. You barely know the guy, but you offer him a strangers kindness, though it feels so intimate, to have someone cry in front of you, and you to comfort them, you aren't sure if the pair of you are really strangers after all. You absently think a part of him hates you for delivering this news. You are almost certain there is a part of him that refuses to believe it. But you are the only one who can allow him to grieve, as no one else will know why he's grieving.

You think about your parents.

You don't think about them often. You were 13 and your brother 17, and he had fought tooth and nail to keep you in his custody, but you had made the decision to stay with Dirk, and no court could take that choice away from you. Their deaths were untimely, and utterly pointless, and you shake your fist at the forces of the universe that took them away from you. You had grieved like this, too. Silent tears and solid hugs.

You rub circles under the base of his wings and his grip on your shirt seems like it could tear the fabric if you move. "It's okay," you tell him, because you know that's what you're supposed to say. But you also know he won't quite believe you. Not for a while. Maybe not ever.

He pulls away, embarrassed suddenly, and says he has to go, to think, he says he'll be in touch, and you know he just doesn't want to cry anymore. Not around you, anyway. You remind him to get his normal shirt on before he leaves, and the whimper of pain when he stuffs his wings in an unnatural way breaks your no-longer-beating heart. This poor guy. He double checks he has all his things, before he thanks you and leaves. If it wasn't for his promise to keep in touch, you would think that was the last you would ever see of him. You call your brother and give him the okay.

* * *

You are now John Egbert, and you just cried in a strangers arms. You weren't really sure what you were thinking, but you knew that no one else knew she was gone, and he was just…there. There to be a surprisingly comforting presence. His hugs were nice, and it struck you that he unfortunately knew how you were feeling, so he must have lost someone, too. You wonder if they sent that condemning letter to them, or if it happened before all this mess did. This "mess" being a massive chunk of the human race becoming…not exactly human.

You still shuddered sometimes when you remembered you weren't human, because you feel just the same as you did before, except for the constant back pain and urge to be amongst the natural world, (This is an urge you have yet to indulge. As well as the sometimes overwhelming urge to fly.) Sometimes you cry. Because you can't fly. You feel so utterly… _trapped._ Trapped and _alone._ And you hope that your roller coaster of a day was worth it, to meet Dave. Maybe one day, with his help, you can go somewhere you can fly. Maybe. Maybe you can have a time where you don't feel trapped, frustratingly trapped onto the ground, as if restraining your very soul.

But now was not the time to cry over your lack of flight. Now was the time to mourn.

When you returned, you note with relief that your father has gone to the office, and left you a note:

 **Son. If you are reading this, I had to go out to the office, so I left you some cake and soup in the fridge. I also picked up some more college pamphlets. I am proud of the responsible adult you have become.**

 **I am so proud of you.**

 **Dad.**

Part of you wonders if he would still be proud of you if he knew you weren't human anymore.

You shove the thought away.

You get changed into a suit that you had stashed away in your closet for formal occasions and funerals. You don't really know why. No one is here. This isn't a funeral. But it feels like it is. It feels like your standing in front of an open casket, and then an open grave. It feels like your staring vacantly at a headstone that says " _Here lies Vriska Serket."_ And it feels like she's just died. Died and left you behind all over again. You feel like you need to remember her. Celebrate her. Because you know that's what she would have wanted. To be remembered.

You grab a man-sized box of tissues.

You lock your door and lay on your bed.

You cry.

 _Okay so, I noticed what I had used to split up the changes in perspective were removed when I posted the chapter! So I am so sorry about that! I tried to fix it this time but who knows?_


	5. Fucking Finally

You are now Dirk Strider, and you are walking home with one Jake English. You've texted Dave. Warning him that you are bringing your new partner home. You aren't surprised to hear the soft thrum of bass turned up deafeningly high, blocked by an expensive pair of headphones. You excuse yourself to barge rudely into your little brother's room. You take off the headphones and tell him not to hurt himself. He nods, but you know his ears are ringing. His ears are too sensitive for that. Vampires rely on hearing and smell above all else. Because they cannot see as far as they can hear. You sigh and run across to your own room, past a slightly confused and awkwardly shuffling Jake.

Your bedside table drawer has everything you need in it. Batteries, a diary (it's not what you think, you would say. It's for planning your shit out, you would promise.) a wallet, lube, condoms- (Safe Incubi are Smart Incubi), and…a screwdriver? Whatever. You must have been working on a project and shoved it in there without thought. You shuffle past a few letters that also managed to get in there to find a clean pair of ear-plugs. You give them to your brother. "If we do end up doing anything, use these. Your headphones, too, if you need to, but don't damage your ears permanently like an idiot." He nods to you and mumbles a thanks. (His mumbles are some of the most important things he says, sometimes.) and you shut his door again, and you hear the lock behind you.

"Right. Sorry. My brothers a vampire, a hearing and smell relying species, and he was _deafening himself_ with- I think it was Katy Perry? Whatever, point is, sorry about leaving you hanging like that. The living room and kitchen is that way," you point down the hall, where the two rooms are connected, living room on the right and kitchen on the left. "And my room is just there," you point to the still open door nearest the pair of you. "And if, for some reason, the bathroom is a thing you need, I have one connected to my room. But there is also one next door to Dave's room." You gesture to the room and look at him expectantly. Jake seems to recognise that he needs to make a choice of where to go.

He chooses the living room.

"You have a marvellous sound system, Dirk!" he comments as he kneels by your DVD shelves and speakers. You have curled up on the couch, grateful that you wear shades. Otherwise you may have gone blind with his aura. He's excited, you can tell. He seems to catch himself and contain his aura. Neither of you have had any skin on skin contact, except him poking your cheek to make sure you didn't burn whenever he touched you, which he had assured you that you won't. You didn't. But that's not the point. He had _shocked_ you. And you don't know if you had liked it or not. He excited you in a dangerous way. His aura shimmers around him near constantly. He must be struggling to contain himself. Or maybe he has a lot to contain. Maybe this is the tip of the holy ice berg.

Regardless, he's here, and you aren't sure what to do with that.

You fed from Roxy nearly two weeks ago, and you're starting to feel the effects of hunger. You remind yourself to have a nice first-day with him, and not to ruin any future friendship you may have. You think you can hold out a couple more days. After that you'll start physically going into decline, but you think you can get a smooch in before then, hell you might even go for one today. He asks if you had plans for later today, you say you're free as a bird for the next few days, except for tomorrow. He seems excited by this, and you get the feeling he's going to propose another day together if this goes well. He then asks if you can put a movie on. You tell him sure, he can knock himself out.

When you had said this you seriously underestimated the man's love for movies.

He has ten in a pile, and even though he decided on _Indiana Jones,_ He finds himself gushing over each and every movie you and Dave have. "We'll probably have time for one more. Enjoy this movie first," you tell him, and pat the spot next to you on the couch. He seems hesitant to be too close to you, and you wonder if it's for your sake or his preference. "You don't have to sit with me if I'm too demon-y for you," you tell him, trying not to allow yourself to be hurt at the thought that he may be repulsed by your aura. You know he likes you, but what if he looks at your swirling vortex of an aura and can't help but cringe?

"What? Oh! No, that isn't the case at all, chap! I just didn't want to be too…angel-y for you!" oh. Okay. Fair enough. "But uh...speaking of such things, I forgot to ask when you next needed too..uh…y'know." you raise an eyebrow and supply the word "Feed" to which he nods quickly. "Well, I last fed almost two weeks ago. So soon. Sorry, Jake." You genuinely are. You know it's an up-close and personal way of feeding, but the alternative is death, and someone will get hurt alone the way, hell, you would probably destroy some shit before you go. "How um…intimate to we need to be for you to feed?" he's nervous, you see it in the way his aura retreats further into itself and flitters about, unsure and anxious. "Well, for a full meal, sex is a thing that would probably have to happen. Not even "the full sex" but, something along those lines? But cuddles-kinda, and kisses can provide some energy as-well." Which you were glad of, because it meant you didn't have to feed as often if you could kiss and cuddle and find sustenance in human food. He seems pleased with this response.

"Oh! Well, allow me!" he chuckles and picks up the remote for the movie (when these advertisements for movies that came out years ago end) and you un-curl yourself and set your feet on the ground as soon as you realise what he's planning. He takes a moment to decide where he'd like to set himself before sprawling himself on the couch like an overfed cat, with his head in your lap. "Is this alright?" he asks, and you find yourself humming in a positive response. You start playing with his hair and massaging his scalp, twirling hair around your fingers absent-mindedly. He hums in contentment, and you find yourself tasting his energy for the first time. Despite that you can only access a small amount of his soul's energy your hand jolts and your breath hitches, and you find yourself clutching your head. You _knew_ this was too good to be true.

But the taste prickles down your spine and you were fucking _wrong_ he tastes like cream and fucking _pumpkins._ It's like a pumpkin pie that's been blessed by god himself. You don't know if your excited, turned on, or negatively affected by his energy. Hell. Maybe it's all of the above. "Are you okay Dirk?" he asks you, and you look down at him and dear god you want to kiss him even though there is still a part of your baser instincts saying _no_ this is _wrong_ he's _dangerous._ And maybe you like what's bad for you. It would explain your poor diet, life choices, and attraction to the _angel_ in front of you. It would explain why you want to taste him again.

Or maybe it's a demonic thing. Because it's supposed to be so _sinful_ for an angel and a demon to be on such good terms. Maybe you like the risk. You don't know. You really don't know.

"Yeah I just… _wow._ Did you know you taste like pumpkin pie, Jake? _"_ and he fucking _laughs_ at you. "No, I didn't," he replies, and presses play on the movie before you can think of a response.

You soon discover that Jake really gets invested in the movies he's watching. Cursing when something goes wrong and cheering when things go right. Grumbling when a villain arrives or a character earns his distrust. You smile but note with slight concern the urge you have to _distract_ him from his movies. You wonder if he would still manage to cheer for the right person with an Incubus working their magic on him. He probably could, to be perfectly honest.

The pair of you end up cuddled up together on the couch, however cuddling only allows you to siphon an incredibly small amount of energy if you try. A taste of what you _could_ be having, and you're driving yourself mad. It's like trying to squeeze juice from a lemon when you've already juiced it once. There is nothing else for you to get and it's infuriating. You're being soul-blocked by a lemon metaphor. You cannot believe this.

All this vain attempt at feeding does is rile you up more, so three quarters of the way through the movie you give up with a huff. Jake looks at you but you don't really know what to answer him with so you just tell him to watch his movie.

When the feature finally does finish you think you're going to cry tears of hunger and the sexual frustration it sparks within you in an attempt to get you to feed quicker. Trying to feed from cuddling was a terrible idea and you've allowed the problem to fester and both the problem and solution is pressed up against you with an arm draped over your waist. He seems to have picked up on your struggle, but waited until the end of the credits (gotta honour the hundreds that went into this film) to speak to you about it.

"Cuddling isn't doing the job, is it?" he says and you sigh and say no, and reiterate the fact you're sorry. "Nothing to be sorry for! I volunteered to help you out! And since we're partners we'll end up solving your hunger problem many times, so there is nothing you need to apologise for." You sigh and nod. He surprises you with a kiss. You're quick and eager to respond, and you cup his face gently, pulling energy to you quickly-but not too fast, otherwise you'll hurt him. Your incubus abilities include inducing, amplifying and manipulating, so you get to work (though not so much with the manipulation, you know the ability is there, you just rarely use it) on making sure Jake feels good. Inducing and amplifying more positive feelings. Makes him taste better, too. The sensation borders on overwhelming, and you wonder what it would be like if you went further.

He's leaning over you now, towering over you on the small (but exceedingly comfortable) couch. You know you can't really feel _full_ just making out with him, though you enjoy it thoroughly. His tongue seems to have bested yours for dominance this kiss round and you feel his hands run down your sides. His energy packs a punch, it excites you, entices you, could and probably will at some point hurt you, and you fear the fact you could call it addictive. This should be impossible. He pulls away, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. "Is that any good?" he asks and you smile and nod, "I should be good for, maybe a week? Probably a bit less, actually. If that's as far as you wanna go?" he chews his lip but nods slowly and you accept that. He kisses you again.

* * *

 _Your name is_ _ **Vriska Serket**_ _, and you aren't sure if you're in hell or not. It's dark. Or maybe you're blind? You know you went blind in one eye, when they tried optical experiments. Maybe you lost the other? You don't know. Your memory fails you. You try to sleep, but things haunt your dreams that you cannot decipher, as well as memories that remain that you would rather you never remembered. You wonder when death will finally greet you. When will your unfortunate luck run out?_

* * *

 _Thoughts? Suggestions? Reviews? I'm all ears._


	6. Our Philosophy

You are now John Egbert. Just as you have been for, say, your entire life? And you've cried yourself out, changed into a pair of joggers, and sealed your house, locked every door and window, closed every curtain, because you're shirtless, and your wings flutter in their newly gained freedom. After your time of mourning, you feel significantly better. You notice you have a text from Dave. When you saved his number originally, you had saved him as "That Guy" and left it at that, since it took a ridiculous amount of time to learn each other's names. But, since your return home, his name has been changed to "Dave S." and that was that.

 _From Dave: are you okay john?_

You smile at his text, you aren't really sure why, but the fact he cares so soon warms your heart. You reply, saying yes, yes you are, and thank him for asking. He says it isn't a problem. He goes on to rant that his brother and his new partner are making out in the living room. You laugh.

 _To Dave: is your hearing really that good?_

 _From Dave: yep, it's too fuckin good if you ask me. Dirk gave me ear plugs, but I don't know if this qualifies as an ear plug situation yet._

 _To Dave: it seems kinda like one to me! But I don't know._

You're lounging in the kitchen, slowly but surely making yourself a cup of coffee, when you hear the car pull up.

"Fuck,"

 _To Dave: my dad's home! He's gonna see me!_

 _From Dave: shit Egbert MOVE._

The reply was almost instantaneous, but you were already in motion, boiling kettle be damned! You reach the top of the stairs as your father walks in, you straighten out your wings and face him, hoping they're 2D enough so that they cannot be seen. Your phone goes off in your hand at least six times. "Hello son, it seems you're popular today!" he greets you, and you hope he didn't see that glint of blue when you turned around. You hope he doesn't notice how nervous you are. "Uh, yeah. I made a friend! We've been chatting," you reply, taking a step backwards, then sideward towards your room. Your father seems concerned. "Is everything okay son?" he asks and you nod, maybe a little too soon. "Fine! I just need to get a shirt on!" you say, and if you weren't hiding wings, you would turn around and go upstairs, but that isn't an option. So you instead turn to your phone and it's eight unread- _nine_ unread messages.

 _From Dave: john?!_

 _From Dave: are you okay?_

 _From Dave: Did he see?_

 _From Dave: it hasn't even been a day fucks sake_

 _From Dave : is everything okay?_

 _From Dave: the "Death Via Over-reacting Father Is Imminent" word is watermelon._

 _From Dave: I don't hear a watermelon but I don't NOT hear a watermelon._

 _From Dave: do I need to sniff your ass down? John? Do I need to buy a blood-hound?_

 _From Dave:…John?_

 _To Dave: im fine! No watermelons here!_

 _From Dave: thank fuck._

You chuckle at Dave's antics, and wonder to yourself if he's the type to go into "Mother Hen Mode" when someone is in trouble of any kind or ill, or injured. You suppose you will find out eventually. Even fairies catch colds, right?

God, you don't know.

You don't know a lot about your kind, your culture or your species, and that kinda pisses you off a bit. (Okay, it pisses you off a lot.)

You're curious to know about Dave's people, too. Did he hate garlic? He could obviously go out in the sun, but looking back on it, knowing what you know now, he was very uncomfortable. Are the things about mirrors and photographs true as well? What about his brother? You remember Dave saying he is an incubus. What are the ins and outs of his kind? You feel so ignorant. But with this new knowledge of the true attitude of your government to your people, and your new fear of CCTV, you don't think it's impossible to assume that they monitor phone calls, texts and internet use, too. Weed out any who haven't signed up yet. It terrifies you to think you were about to sign up. In a way, Dave _saved your life,_ today. He also made a wing-friendly shirt. Which you realise you left at his home. You suppose you can bring it back next time. Or just keep it there, so you don't have to wonder around shirtless in Dave's apartment.

Huh. Next time. You wonder when that should be. Well, you _do_ need to thank him for everything, y'know, stopping you from signing up for fuck-knows-what and then death. Maybe you could take him out for coffee? Ugh, wait, you doubt that he would need to eat or drink anything. Maybe a movie? Not much opportunity to talk. Besides, these sound like date ideas. Not what you were going for initially…but then again, you aren't opposed to the idea of taking him out on a date. But you need to find a way to thank him, first!

You don't know enough about him to buy him his favourite something-or-other, and he can't eat (you are 99% sure that's how vampires work. You could be wrong? It would make sense for them to be able to eat in order to keep up the act of being human.) And you don't know what movies he likes! The frustration makes you want to scream, in all honesty.

In your distracted daze you soon realise your father has left. You high-tail it out of there, into the safety (though the dread creeps up within you when you realise maybe it isn't as safe as you thought) of your bedroom. Your wings protest as they are shoved in odd angles to prevent them for moving or being seen or popping out in any way, but you get it done. You didn't have a choice, anyway. Your dad calls you down for dinner. Dave texts you again. The world goes on, despite your life-changing day.

By the next day, you've learned a considerable amount about Dave. He loves mixing music and has a passion for palaeontology, which has reached "God-tier levels of irony," now that he himself is a dead thing. (He had said _"now that I'm dead on the inside. My soul has wilted Egbert. There is nothing left."_ but you know he was referring only to his vampirism. At least, you hope it was only that he was referring to. You don't know what you would do if he meant both literally and emotionally.) He also loves drawing comics, which he purposefully half-asses and draws as badly as possible, apparently, a few hundred people follow his comics (including his brother!), He dabbles in film and photography, and his favourite drink is apple juice. You have yet to find an opportunity to ask about whether he can drink or not. You cannot bring yourself to trust the dressed up and heavily veiled text messages. He cannot allow any information about him being turned (or anyone else for that matter!) to slip through. You remember asking him if he could actually draw, to which he replied _"Fuck if I know, if you can tell what it is, its good right? What counts as a good drawing anyway?"_ his unexpected philosophical remark caught you off guard, and you decide to ask him to draw you something when you next meet up. Which is to be soon, apparently.

He learned a lot about you, too. You play the piano, fear for a future of diabetes due to large amounts of cake being baked in your home by your father, you tried learning code, still try to code to this day, but you aren't very good. You used to be interested in manga and the paranormal, when you were younger, but the interests faded into fond memories, and you almost laugh at the irony of your interest in the paranormal, now you have wings. You complained about your dads' insistence that you go to college, and if you could, university. Assures you that you will meet a nice girl there (why did he assume girl?) and be happy, (why would he assume happy?). You doubt this to be your future. Part of you wonders if you have a future at all. Dave also found out that you had a flare for science and a sharp wit every now and again. Your amateur magic tricks and classic pranks also earned mention in your conversation. The night was very much spent getting to know one another, putting aside the government conspiracies, emotional issues and non-humanity. On the philosophical side, what constitutes as humanity anyway? Brutality? Lies, cheating and betrayal? Because many people have done that. Many times. Is that what makes people human? Is it the jealousy or the fear? The diversity and the conflict? Could it possibly be compassion and empathy? Because you are still capable of all of that, and yet you do not class yourself as human. Or maybe not being human is a good thing? Maybe you just don't know enough about fae culture to understand the differences.

You think it's the fear.

Fear of death, the unknown. Because you are the unknown, and you assume you are immortal now (which will give you problems later) so death is not as big a threat (if you lived a comfortable normal life. Obviously there is a way (or multiple?) for you to die, regardless of you being one of the fae) so perhaps it is fear, and ignorance, that sets you apart. But you are ignorant to your own kind! Does that make you any better? Or worse? You don't know anything about anything anymore. You stop thinking about it before you start crying again. This time out of frustration and an existential crisis. Dave may or may not dabble in philosophy, but you decide never to delve into it again. It isn't worth it.

Dave asks if you want to visit him, since his brother is out with a friend of his, Roxy. You don't ask about her, you might ask to know more about her when you're at Dave's apartment. You busy yourself getting ready, buzzing at the fact you have plans so soon in the day. Your dad is making breakfast, and you manage to sit and have a nice meal with him, if only just. He rushes out far too soon, promising to look at college pamphlets with you (again. You pretend to remain completely undecided, despite having narrowed down the many colleges to just three. It buys time.) When he gets home.

Your bus arrives where you said you would meet Dave, and sure enough, he's right on time, today. He greets you with a two fingered salute against the frames of his shades, and a quiet "Sup?" and you wave back to him. He begins walking you to his apartment complex, and you try your best to memorize the route.

Upon arrival, you shed your shoes, jacket, and shirt (once you're sure it's safe) and Dave hands you the slashed shirt from the day before. Your hands linger together a moment longer than necessary, but you try not to think anything of it. With your back muscles unclenched, you both sat down on the futon in the living room, and Dave suggests some video games.

He beat you the first few rounds, but soon he is squinting and frowning and leaning forward far too much. You offer a change of activity. He accepts with a look of relief you know he was trying to hide. You ask him what was wrong.

"My eyes. All sensitive and shit, the TV screen hurts after a while. I can see the red green and blue, you know. That make up the whole picture?" you nod. His eyesight must be exceptional. You wonder if his sense of touch and taste are just as enhanced as you know his sight, hearing and smell to be. You also remember you need to ask about the whole drink thing. You ask about the senses first.

"Well, touch, not so much, it's better than a humans, but worse than my other senses. Taste is a difficult one, because yeah, I taste blood and stuff, but human food tastes like ass. So, there are things I can't taste, but blood has this weird taste-factor to it so I dunno if that's just biology getting me to like the taste or enhanced taste or both or what and, yeah. " Which leads you to your next question.

"So, you can eat and drink still? Even if it tastes terrible?" he shakes his head. Oh.

"Fuck, no, I'd throw up. Is this because I mentioned apple juice? It was my favourite when I was human, but I couldn't really add that on." You nod. Taking Dave out for "coffee-or-something" is a no-go.

"How do you know how human food tastes, how it affects you? Did someone try it?" he seems to stiffen and this, but nods none-the-less. You're intrigued. You ask him to elaborate.

"I did. After I figured out what I was I…refused to accept it. And I kept trying to eat and drink, hoping the problem would go away, that I was wrong, that I could adjust to human food. That I could still be human." He curls in on himself a little at this point, and you feel sympathy well up within you. You prompt for him to continue the story, if he wanted to divulge more.

"Obviously, that shit didn't fly. I got so weak, John. Thin and pale and I couldn't even lift up my phone. The wind could've blown me away. I was a step away from either mass murder, suicide or just dropping dead. Not the best time of my life, I guess." He finishes, and your wings flutter, wanted to surround him in a big hug, because that isn't _fair._ It sounds like an awful experience, and you are hesitant to touch him, because you are both still quite new to each other, still should be calling yourselves strangers, and yet Dave has just told you something so personal. A hardship he didn't have to say anything about. But, you suppose if there is anything you have learned about Dave, it is that he will always choose to fill a silence rather than leave it be. And you suppose he trusts you. Put the same trust in you that you put in him. Both with your chance encounter and revealing your wings, with talking about Vriska, too.

You reach over and hug him anyway. Though you are still hesitant to touch him, and he senses this, pulling you into the hug rather than you as you had previously intended. You remember that this is the second hug you've shared with Dave, but this one is for him. Regardless of this fact, however, it is still him who says; "it's okay," though this time with a different meaning. The last time, he meant things would get better. Now, he means he's okay now, and has put the event behind him.

It seems so much has changed so quickly, your mind has yet to catch up. You sigh and pull back, drooping your wings and bringing your knees to your chest. "This sucks," is all you say, and Dave makes a sound of agreement beside you. When you do look over at Dave, he seems to be daydreaming, his eyes directed towards your wings. As someone who is bound to the earth, you suppose he wonders what it's like to fly. Unfortunately, so do you. Because while you are capable of flying doesn't mean you _can_ or _should._ Perhaps he is just reflecting on memories of darker times, and you should distract him. You aren't really sure what to do.

* * *

 _More hath been demandeth, and thus it twas delivered. ;) also, how easy is it to tell I study philosophy based on Johns earlier conundrum on the nature of humanity?_


End file.
